


A Little Love's Better Than None

by closetbidisaster



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Angst?, F/F, I Can Break Your Heart Too (The Aces), Pining, Sadness, Song: Just a Little Bit of Your Heart (Ariana Grande), no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetbidisaster/pseuds/closetbidisaster
Summary: As far as she knew, Lindsey and what’s-his-name were in a relationship. And Lindsey and she were...well that was just it. They never talked about it - their undeniable shift from just friends to something more and they probably never would.Emily had learned early on that, while it came across that she was the physically affectionate one, it was actually Lindsey who drove their physical (and Instagram official) closeness. Lindsey was the one who told the whole college-soccer-watching world that they held hands on the bus to their away games. She was the one that grabbed Emily’s head and kissed the side of it while they were on the sidelines one game, letting it be captured (and posted) by the team’s social media person. She was the one who chose to post the picture of the two of them at the Mac Herman ceremony instead of her individual one from when she won.And Emily let her.And Lindsey knew it.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been on a sad song kick lately (IDK man) and I am absolutely OBSESSED with this song.
> 
> I also have had writer's block for a month and a half, so I'm hoping this helped kick it in the ass.
> 
> Sorry in advance.

The slow, quiet click of the lock is the first signal that Lindsey’s home. _Home_ , Emily nearly scoffs at the thought. It hasn’t been home in a long time. Not really. Not anymore. She wants to appreciate her best friend’s thought to try and come home quietly, likely thinking she is asleep, but she knows it’s deeper than that. Lindsey’s trying to sneak in, which is ridiculous. She shouldn’t feel like she has to sneak around with her, but she does, and Emily knows she’s partly to blame.

Developing a crush on Lindsey wasn’t either of their faults, but it was rather unfortunate. Especially when Emily had come so close to finally telling Lindsey, only to find out she was dating _him_ again. And, yes, it had hurt. Emily thought she had known heartbreak, but apparently she hadn’t. Not until she heard that.

She grew accustomed to Lindsey spending more and more nights away from their apartment. Well, technically, it was _Emily’s_ apartment, but it had always felt like it was _theirs_ instead of just hers. Lindsey rarely spent time in her own apartment, despite it being literally ten feet away from Emily’s, not that the older one was complaining. The more time she could spend with Lindsey, the better.

She must have been thinking too loud because she hears the latch on her bedroom door turning and her breath catches as she stills, stiffer than a board. The door opens and it takes everything in her to not turn over and face Lindsey. The taller blonde’s footsteps falter when they reach the bed and Emily _knows_. She knows why Lindsey is here, and, as a result, she is turning to face her before she can fully process it.

“Hey,” Lindsey whispers and Emily’s heart breaks at the shakiness of her voice.

“Hey.”

There’s a beat of silence before Emily bites the bullet and moves over, gesturing for Lindsey to join her. The voice in the back of her head (it sounds unnervingly like Rose’s) is telling her this is a bad idea, that she needs space, but she can’t find it in herself to turn Lindsey away. Not when she starts shaking as soon as she’s under the covers.

Emily naturally gravitates towards her best friend, propping herself up on her elbow and waiting for Lindsey to speak, knowing she will when she’s ready.

“Not tonight, Son,” Lindsey whispers after a few moments.

Her voice is still fragile and Emily frowns. She wants to reach forward and comfort her, kiss her worries away, but she knows she can’t. She knows that’s not her job, not unless Lindsey says it is. So she lays down properly and turns away from Lindsey, screwing her eyes shut and wishing she couldn’t hear the quiet crying coming from the other side of her bed.

Wishing she could be _the_ one, instead of just one.

* * *

“Why are you doing this? You’re destroying yourself for _a girl_.”

Rose sounds more aggravated than usual, which is impressive given that she’s been here for the entire Lindsey debacle. And she is stabbing at her salad on the counter which Emily finds to be a highly ineffective way to eat salad, but she chooses to keep that to herself. For now.

“She’s not just ‘a girl’ though,” Emily argues, avoiding eye contact with her friend as she moves around her apartment, trying to clean up.

“Okay, yeah, it’s Lindsey, but Son,” Rose’s hard tone softens and she drops her fork, leaning forward, “can’t you see what she’s doing to you?”

Emily’s step falters for a moment, but she continues moving. She starts emptying the dishwasher, ignoring the burning sensation in the side of her head where she is assuming Rose is staring at as she pulls Lindsey’s favorite coffee mug from the top shelf and puts it away. She also ignores her shaking hand when she closes the cabinet door and finally faces Rose.

“I’m fine, Rose.”

She was expecting a scoff, the same scoff she usually got when they had this conversation, but it never came. Instead, she received a studying look, one that reminded her of the one’s Tobin gave her when she finally admitted to the older player that she was in love with Lindsey. It made her spine tingle and it felt like there was a rock settling in her stomach. Rose finally opens her mouth to speak, but Emily beats her to it.

“I’m a fool for her.”

Rose’s mouth closes for a beat before she speaks.

“Yeah, you are,” she agrees, crossing her arms. “You should really stop that.”

Emily shrugs sadly, letting out a puff of air that sounds like a self-pitying laugh, and rubs a hand over her face.

“That’s the thing, Rosie. I _can’t_ stop. If I can just have a little bit of her heart, I’ll be okay.”

With that, Emily turns and walks to her bedroom, knowing Rose will show herself out. She doesn’t want to be rude, but she needed to leave the conversation before she broke down and when the tears started to prick her eyes after she called herself a fool, she knew that would be sooner rather than later.

“Just a little bit of your heart, Linds,” she whispers, running a finger across the framed photo of the two of them sitting on her desk.

* * *

She was actually having a good day despite knowing where Lindsey was at the moment. She was cooking dinner, knowing that, Lindsey might have been with him right now, but she was coming home to _her_ later. So, she played her country music, opened the windows, and let the biggest smile she’d felt on her face in a long time grace _their_ apartment.

She wasn’t even fazed when Lindsey showed up nearly a half an hour late. She brushed it off; it was sort of unrealistic for them to set specific times. After all, she was returning from time with her _boyfriend_ , and she was....what was she exactly?

She still wasn’t really sure.

As far as she knew, Lindsey and what’s-his-name were in a _relationship_ . And Lindsey and she were...well that was just it. They never talked about it - their undeniable shift from _just friends_ to _something more_ and they probably never would.

Emily had learned early on that, while it came across that _she_ was the physically affectionate one, it was actually Lindsey who drove their physical (and Instagram official) closeness. Lindsey was the one who told the whole college-soccer-watching world that they held hands on the bus to their away games. She was the one that grabbed Emily’s head and kissed the side of it while they were on the sidelines one game, letting it be captured (and posted) by the team’s social media person. She was the one who chose to post the picture of the two of them at the Mac Herman ceremony instead of her individual one from when she won.

And Emily let her.

And Lindsey _knew_ it.

Lindsey might be a little oblivious at times, but she’s not _blind_.

And Emily…

Emily might be head over heels for her best friend, but she’s not _stupid_.

She knows that Lindsey knows, knows that Lindsey can see it.

And she sees it when Lindsey comes home that night. The smile on Lindsey’s face as soon as she enters the kitchen. The casual “what are you cooking for us tonight, babe?” as she opens the fridge and grabs them both a drink.

Emily’s heart skips a beat at the “babe”, but she doesn’t dwell on it. She knows it means far less to Lindsey than it does to her. And yet, when Lindsey walks behind her and wraps an arm around her waist before dropping a kiss on her cheek, Emily can’t help but melt into her side.

_Just a little bit of her heart_ , she reminds herself. If this is all she gets, she’ll take it.

“It’s a surprise,” she finally answers Lindsey’s question, turning to face her and almost immediately regretting it.

They are very close together and it’s taking all of her willpower to not lean forward and kiss Lindsey. The taller blonde smiles and Emily falls more in love, eyes closing and an involuntary sigh leaving her lips when Lindsey presses another kiss to her cheek, dangerously close to her lips.

Unwrapping herself from Emily, Lindsey leaves the kitchen, heading for the bedroom.

“I’m gonna shower. Let me know when it’s done, yeah?”

Emily’s still dazed by the feeling of Lindsey’s lips being so close to her own. The sound of the bedroom’s door closing finally snaps her from it and she leans heavily against the counter, trying to keep her breathing steady.

Maybe one day, she’ll finally tell Lindsey how she feels.

Maybe one day, Lindsey will tell her she feels the same.

Maybe one day, she’ll no longer be a fool.

* * *

“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Emily sighs, closing her eyes and trying to keep from strangling her friend. She loves Mal, she _really_ does, but the younger girl doesn’t always get it. She’s the sweetest, and always means well, but she’s still dating her high school sweetheart and is convinced they’re going to get married, so Emily takes her words with a grain of salt most times.

“I don’t know how,” she finally answers.

“You don’t know how? Then how do you know you love her?”

Emily’s quiet for a moment.

“How did you know you were in love?”

“I can’t really describe it, I just knew.”

Emily raises her eyebrows slightly and she sees it click in the younger girl’s brain.

“Right, gotcha.”

“I’ve tried, but something always gets in the way, you know? College Cup, finals, family crises, _boys_ ,” the word tastes bitter in her mouth and Mal lets out a little laugh at her facial expression.

“My total incompetence when it comes to talking to girls I’m in love with,” she continues.

“C’mon, you can talk to girls,” Mal protests and Emily throws one of freshman’s stuffed animals at her head.

“I’m not in love with those girls, dipshit.”

“I will kick you out of my room.”

“Please don’t. Lindsey has _the boy_ ,” Emily makes a face, “over and I’d rather not be there for that.”

“Wait,” Mal sits straight up, “she brought _him_ back to _your_ apartment?”

Emily shifts slightly.

“Well, no. She brought him to hers, but still. It’s right across the hall and, like, I don’t want to see that.”

“Okay, you _do_ know you wouldn’t actually _see_ anything, right? Doors and walls?”

Emily stands.

“I’m going to Rose’s.”

“It’s a valid question!”

“Bye!”

“Tell her how you feel, it’ll make you feel better!”

Mal’s words echo in Emily’s head all the way across campus to the older athletes’ dorm, sounding in her head as she knocks on Rose’s door, and the image of Lindsey’s smiling face (smiling at him instead of her) burned into the backs of her eyelids as she collapses on her friend’s bed and tries to fight back tears.

_Just a little bit of her heart_.

* * *

It’s dark when Emily finally returns home. Lindsey hadn’t directly told her that he had left, but she had sent her a SnapChat that had been classified as “only mildly suggestive” by Rose, so she came home. She hadn’t been surprised to find Lindsey already sitting on her couch when she got back, though she was starting to question if it had been a good idea to give Lindsey the one spare key she had. She hadn’t hesitated when the younger girl had jokingly suggested that she should be the one to get it because she was always over. Emily’s starting to wonder if she should’ve said no.

But when Lindsey smiles softly at her and tugs her down onto her lap, immediately wrapping an arm around her and holding her close as The Bachelor drones on in the background, Emily can’t find it in herself to think of why she would ever tell Lindsey no.

“How was your bonding thing with Mal?”

“Hm?”

“Your bonding thing,” Lindsey prompts and Emily remembers.

She had told Lindsey that she was doing an “individual bonding session” with each freshman as an excuse when she had passed Lindsey and what’s-his-name in the stairwell. It was a better (if slightly unbelievable) excuse than saying the truth.

_I can’t be here if he’s going to be here._

_I can’t bear the thought of the two of you together._

_I love you._

“Right, right, it was good. She’s really gonna do well, I think. Possible future captain, once we’ve graduated.”

“Good. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders.”

Emily grunts in response. Mal _did_ have a good head on her shoulders, and was exceptionally sharp...when it came to soccer.

“How was your night?” Emily tentatively asks, immediately regretting it when she feels Lindsey tense beneath her.

“It was fine.”

There’s an edge to her voice and Emily _wants_ to ignore it, but she knows she can’t. She knows she won’t. So she turns and properly faces Lindsey, forcing her best friend to look at her. She also chooses to _not_ think about the fact that she is currently, basically, straddling Lindsey so she can properly look at her.

“Just fine?”

Lindsey shrugs and tries to look away, but Emily reaches forward and tips her chin up. Lindsey’s eyes snap to hers immediately and her hands settle on Emily’s hips.

“Just fine?” She repeats.

Lindsey nods, but her mind is a million miles away, Emily can tell. Her eyes drop to Emily’s lips and Emily tries to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest when Lindsey leans forward a little. Somehow, Emily finds the presence of mind to reach up and put a hand on Lindsey’s chest before she gets any further.

“Wait.”

Lindsey pauses, eyes still trained on her mouth.

“Before you do this,” she takes a breath, “before _we_ do anything, I need you to know something. I’m okay being one.”

Lindsey blinks and finally makes eye contact, a look of confusion on her face as she does.

“You’re-”

“I’m okay with being one of yours,” she repeats herself. “Even if I can’t be the only one, I’ll be just one if it means I can be with you in some way.”

She can see the recognition flash in Lindsey’s eyes and the younger girl’s hands disappear from her hips. She hadn’t meant to make her feel guilty; she had hoped this would help both of them. 

Maybe that hadn’t been the right train of thought.

“But, Son-”

“Just a little bit of your heart, Linds, that’s all I need,” Emily interrupts her.

Lindsey finally seems to accept her answer with a small nod before leaning forward and connecting their lips. Emily can feel herself falling further and further with every second they are kissing, but she can’t pull herself away.

She has finally been given the tiniest part of Lindsey’s heart and that’s all she had ever asked for.

* * *

“I’m in love with her.”

“Congratulations, you are officially the last to know,” Rose responds, only looking up from her textbook when she is hit in the head with a pillow.

“That was rude.”

“I just admitted I’m in love with someone and you won’t even look at me,” Lindsey complains.

Rose sighs and closes her textbook, giving Lindsey a look that is near impossible to read and makes her incredibly nervous.

“What are you waiting for?” Rose finally asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You know she loves you, you’ve always known,” Rose responds bluntly and Lindsey wants to argue that she didn’t _always_ know, but it would’ve been useless.

She _had_ always known. She had felt the shift from just friends to more, she had heard the whispers and seen the looks. That had only driven her further back into his arms, and it made her slightly sick to her stomach.

She liked him well enough, he was decent.

She loved Emily.

She was scared.

When Emily had told her that she would be okay with the smallest part of her heart being handed over, Lindsey’s heart had shattered. The older girl was deserving of so much more than she had been given, of what she was asking. But Lindsey knew she would never ask for it, would never force it. Emily was in love with her, and Lindsey was too scared to let herself be with her.

“What are you waiting for?”

Rose repeating herself pulls Lindsey from her thoughts.

“I don’t know if I can be with her,” Lindsey whispers so quietly that Rose nearly misses it.

“Why not?” Rose’s tone has softened so much that Lindsey is almost surprised she’s still talking to the same person.

“I don’t know.”

Rose’s resolve returns as she turns back to her textbook.

“Figure it out then.”

* * *

Lindsey was on time that night, a rarity if Emily’s ever known one. She didn’t have time to appreciate it though, not when she saw the mark on her neck. The smile dropped from her face, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes burned as she turned back to the stove. Lindsey didn’t even say ‘hi’ to her, opting instead to go straight to the bedroom to get ready for dinner.

Every time Emily blinks, the images flash across the back of her eyelids

Them laughing together. 

The mark on her neck.

The two of them kissing.

Lindsey telling her she loved him.

Lindsey telling her she loved _her_.

Her breath comes out strangled and shaky, her eyes still burn with unshed tears. The sound of the shower turning on reaches her ears, barely heard over the sound of the piercing tone in her head. She tries to breathe properly and closes her eyes tightly. The images come back and her eyes fly open once more as the tears finally begin to fall.

_Just a little bit of her heart was what I asked for_.

Just a little bit of her heat was what she got.


	2. My Life Isn't Always About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, Tinker Bell, what are you wanting to do?”
> 
> “I dunno, spin the bottle?”
> 
> Rose reaches over the counter to smack Emily who ducks away, laughing at the look on her friend’s face. She wanders back towards the living room and turns back to face Rose whose face has shifted from disgust at the thought of the two of them playing spin the bottle to something much more thoughtful.
> 
> “How are you doing?”
> 
> Emily wants to make a joke about Rose failing at her Joey Tribbani impression, but the words are stuck in her throat. She knows her sense of humor won’t be helpful in avoiding this conversation. Rose won’t let it happen.
> 
> She takes a drink and takes a seat on her couch, finding sudden interest in her sweatshirt so she doesn’t have to look up at Rose and taking a moment before answering.
> 
> “Better, I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a part 2.
> 
> It's not a fix-it

Emily still feels slightly guilty every time she turns down an offer from Lindsey to hang out, just the two of them. It hurts both of them, she can tell, but she knows it will be best for her in the long run. She was finally starting to get over her best friend - turns out seeing her still choose him over her after finding out she told Rose she loved her did the trick - but she didn’t think she could handle them hanging out alone together.

She was okay with group settings. Hell, she was _perfect_ with group settings; she could laugh and joke around with Rose, chill with Sam, and even occasionally bond with the various freshmen that would tag along with them. And, most of all, she could avoid looking at Lindsey, interacting with Lindsey, as much as was possible.

She couldn’t get away with completely ignoring the younger girl, for many reasons. For starters, she didn’t want to make things awkward with the group. So, she swallowed her pride, and her feelings, and would make a couple of direct comments to Lindsey each time the group was together. She also was unable to escape from the younger one’s gaze when she was doing just about anything with just about anyone else.

She could feel Lindsey’s gaze on her when she and Rose were showing off a new dance they had choreographed. She knew when Lindsey was watching her talk about who-knows-what with Sam. Lindsey’s laugh echoed in her ears when she made a joke at Mal’s expense.

Lindsey still haunted her.

Lindsey looked especially crestfallen when she had rejected the offer today. Before she knew it, she found herself rescinding her rejection and accepting the offer.

And then kicking herself for doing so. But, ultimately, she knew she would cave eventually. And it wasn’t because of her feelings, at least, not entirely. More than anything, Emily missed her. She missed wasting away the evenings with her, watching some stupid reality show. She missed Lindsey holding her hand to calm her down before a big match.

She missed her best friend.

But this weird back-and-forth they had been doing had nearly destroyed her. Emily had continued to let herself fall, never really trying to stop herself, and had told Lindsey she didn’t need to do the same.

Rose had eventually stepped in, telling Emily she needed space and forcing her to tell Lindsey the same thing.

To say she hadn’t taken it well was putting it lightly. It was as if the younger girl couldn’t comprehend why Emily might need space from her. After all, Emily had told her she was okay with doing whatever they were doing.

Emily can’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation. When Lindsey had asked for space after breaking up with him the first time and nearly falling for Emily, she had given it without hesitation. She wanted Lindsey to be comfortable, to come to her on her own terms. She never wanted to pressure her into anything.

And she knows that, deep down, Lindsey doesn’t want to push her into something either. But she also knows that Lindsey isn’t exactly known for being patient. She had lived her entire life, had succeeded in most everything she did, by going after what she wanted and not giving up.

Emily admired that, but that wasn’t what she wanted.

Not anymore.

They go for dinner, just the two of them. It’s a bit awkward at first, but they slowly find their rhythm, quickly falling into their old banter. Everything is fine until the bill comes. Lindsey insists on paying, claiming it was because she had asked Emily to hang out. It was starting to feel like a lovers’ quarrel over who asked who out and who pays. It starts to give Emily a headache, so she relents and lets Lindsey pay.

When Lindsey asks her what she wants to do after dinner, Emily nearly chokes on her water. She fumbles her way through a truly pitiful excuse about having to do some philosophy homework that she’s pretty sure not even Mal - the most gullible person she knows - would believe. The look Lindsey gives her is proof enough it wasn’t one of her more believable lies, but the taller blonde accepts her excuse, and the two of them part ways with tight nods and fake smiles to each other.

When Emily gets home that night, she ignores the sadness and latches onto the spark of irritation in her, letting it carry until she falls asleep with a scowl on her face.

* * *

The outside of the library was extraordinarily pretty. It always had been, and during Emily’s freshman year, it had become her favorite place to be. She would spend hours sitting on a patch of grass and studying it from different angles, drawing parts of it on whatever she could find - a scrap piece of paper, a to-go coffee sleeve, a napkin. It calmed her, drawing. She was no Tobin, not in her own opinion at least, but she loved drawing.

The peace it brought her was like no other. No matter how stressed she got, how loud her mind got, it would always ground her. She spent a lot of time here in the last three years, made a lot of big decisions. Deciding her major, deciding to return to soccer after her ACL injury freshman year, the night before any big game, the night she realized she had feelings for Lindsey, the night she realized she was in love. Being here had always assuaged any and all fears she had, even if it was just for a moment. It put her at peace.

Nothing could take that peace away from her while she was drawing.

Nothing-except for her ringing phone.

Cursing herself for forgetting to silence her phone like she usually did, she pulls it out and looks at the caller ID. She had no intention of answering it - she just wanted to see who was calling her this early on a Sunday morning.

Seeing Lindsey’s name on the screen did nothing to ease her back into her calmness. On instinct, though, she nearly swipes to answer it, stopping at the last second. She hadn’t made a decision one way or another on whether or not to answer it when it rolled over to voicemail. She lets out a shaky sigh of relief, hoping Lindsey chooses not to leave a voicemail; she knows the younger girl hates them.

True to form, Lindsey doesn’t leave one. Instead, she calls again. This time, Emily doesn’t hesitate to make her decision.

She clicks ignore and silences her phone, putting it down once more and turning her attention back to the building in front of her. She grabs her paper and refocuses on her work, finding where she left off and picking up from there, working on shading, erasing and redrawing as she goes.

Lindsey could wait, she decides.

* * *

The sun is setting by the time Emily returns home that day. She feels lighter, lighter than she has in a while, as she makes her way up the stairs. She’s whistling the tune of a Jon Bellion song that had been stuck in her head for a week now and completely misses the sound of Lindsey’s door opening as she goes to unlock her own.

“I thought that was you.”

Emily stops whistling and she tenses for a moment. Turning to face Lindsey, she plastered a fake smile on her face, hand still on the door handle as a way to ground herself.

“Oh, hey, sorry. Hope I didn’t disturb you or,” she gestures towards Lindsey’s door vaguely, “interrupt anything.”

Lindsey shakes her head, crossing her arms.

“There’s nothing to interrupt.”

“Oh.”

_Oh._

No, she tells herself. Absolutely not an option. Gripping the door handle tighter, she feels her smile tighten and offers a small nod to Lindsey.

“Right, well, I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“You don’t wanna come over?”

Emily freezes again.

“I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“You see me all the time,” Emily weakly dismisses. “Training, group study sessions, we live across the hall from each other.”

“I never see _just_ you anymore,” Lindsey clarifies.

Something in Emily snaps.

“I’m sorry I’ve been busy with school and life and shit, Lindsey.”

The use of the other girl’s full name leaves a weird taste in her mouth and tries to ignore the visible flinch from her at it. Sighing, she opens her door and turns away from Lindsey, back fully to her when she speaks next.

“I’ll see you later.”

She closes the door without waiting for a response.

* * *

The sound of her phone ringing wakes her from her nap. Seriously, why did she leave the ringer on? She groans and reaches around blindly for her phone, only opening her eyes once she has it in hand and looks to see who decided to call her.

“Mal? Why are you calling me on a Sunday evening? Hoping for some dating advice?”

“Haha, very funny,” Mal sounds anything but amused right now and that wakes Emily up a little more, sitting up properly in bed now.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I just get a warning next time before I open my door to a Lindsey Horan rant?”

Emily’s brain stutter-steps and she lets out a strangled sound.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Mal repeats herself and Emily falls back against her pillows, running a hand over her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you into this whole mess.”

“Have you told her why you’re avoiding her?”

“I asked for space. Isn’t that enough?”

Mal sighs and Emily hears the distant voice of someone else before Mal’s muffled reply to whoever, Emily is guessing it’s Lindsey, before she responds.

“We can’t force you to tell her your reasoning, but she is still your best friend. Maybe you should tell her.”

Emily sits up again, growing frustrated.

“I feel like she should know. It’s not exactly rocket science, is it? I basically admit I’m in love with her and tell her I’m okay with being a,” she pauses, searching for the right word, “a _whatever_ and then she goes and tells Rose that she’s in love with me and _still_ chooses him and then acts surprised and like I’ve killed her puppy by asking for space that I deserve after this shitshow.”

“You’re right.”

“Come again?”

“You’re right,” Mal simply replies again and Emily waits for her elaboration. “You’re right; it seems like she should already know. And you’re right, you deserve space from her.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me, weirdo. You’re entitled to how you feel and how you heal.”

“Even if it makes Lindsey think I hate her and you get to hear her rant?”

“Yeah, so, I’m not so crazy about that part, but,” Mal pauses for a beat and puffs out a breath, “it’s your choice.”

“I don’t want her thinking I _hate_ her,” Emily mumbles. “I just want her to know she’s not the only one who can break a heart.”

“This sounds like a very dangerous game for you two to be playing.”

“I’m not playing.”

“You shouldn’t toy with her feelings.”

“She shouldn’t have toyed with mine.”

The silence on the other end of the line lets Emily know the younger girl has no counter, but Emily doesn’t feel like she has won anything.

* * *

Rose isn’t stabbing at her salad today which Emily takes as a good sign. The younger brunette is sitting at the counter in Emily’s apartment, eating and studying while the older blonde races Mario Kart and waits for her to be done. After finishing her most recent circuit, Emily opts to grab a drink.

She grabs a beer from the fridge for herself and a seltzer for Rose, who was not a drinker really. Silently handing Rose her drink, Emily stands in her kitchen and waits for her to pay attention to her.

“Yes, Son?” Rose asks without looking up from her laptop.

“Are you almost done? I’m bored and I require attention or I’m going to die.”

Rose rolls her eyes but closes her laptop and opens her drink.

“Alright, Tinker Bell, what are you wanting to do?”

“I dunno, spin the bottle?”

Rose reaches over the counter to smack Emily who ducks away, laughing at the look on her friend’s face. She wanders back towards the living room and turns back to face Rose whose face has shifted from disgust at the thought of the two of them playing spin the bottle to something much more thoughtful.

“How are you doing?”

Emily wants to make a joke about Rose failing at her Joey Tribbani impression, but the words are stuck in her throat. She knows her sense of humor won’t be helpful in avoiding this conversation. Rose won’t let it happen.

She takes a drink and takes a seat on her couch, finding sudden interest in her sweatshirt so she doesn’t have to look up at Rose and taking a moment before answering.

“Better, I think.”

“Yeah?”

She nods and finally looks up.

“Yeah. I thought she was everything I could ever want in a partner, but,” Emily shakes her head and looks down again, “turns out I was wrong.”

Rose doesn’t respond and Emily hates the silence, so she keeps talking.

“She’s amazing and I love being her best friend. I love our handshake and our inside jokes, spending holidays together, binging new shows, messing around together. I love it all and, to be honest Rose, I still love _her._ But,” she looks at Rose once again, “I also know that I deserve better than what I got from her. I know that, ultimately, there wasn’t anything I could have said or done to get her to choose me. I should’ve taken myself out of the equation before I even got in it, but,” a shrug, “I know now.”

“Are you going to talk to her?”

Emily nods, “Yeah, I will. At some point, just not sure when.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks, Rosie. Now, if we’re done with the emotions, can I kick your ass in Mario Kart?”

* * *

Lindsey Horan sitting outside her apartment, reading a book, was _not_ a sight Emily thought she would be seeing today. And yet, it was sitting right in front of her. She pauses briefly, chewing at her bottom lip slightly and adjusting her backpack, before sighing and approaching the sitting blonde.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Lindsey looks up and closes her book but offers no response. She stands and tucks the book under one arm as the other wraps around her own waist. She’s nervous, Emily notices, though she hasn’t the faintest idea of why she might be. So, she waits.

“I was waiting for you to come home,” Emily’s spine tingles at the word. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Emily leans against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest, studying the girl in front of her.

“Alright,” she replies after a moment. “What about?”

“Uh, I’d rather not have this conversation in the hallway of our apartment building.”

At that, Emily glances hesitantly at her door, gears turning in her head. She doesn’t want to have - what sounds like an important - conversation with Lindsey in the hallway either, but she doesn’t trust herself to let Lindsey come inside. Not yet.

“I was actually thinking we could walk down to the park,” Lindsey’s voice shakes Emily from her thoughts and she blinks at the taller blonde.

“The park?”

Lindsey nods, fingers tapping at her leg and eyes looking everywhere but directly at Emily.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s still sorta public, but we can find somewhere to talk. I didn’t think you’d feel comfortable doing this in either of our apartments,” Lindsey replies, offering a knowing smile and Emily can see she’s been caught.

“Okay,” she agrees, unlocking her door and quickly putting her backpack inside before relocking it. “The park.”

The walk is silent, the awkward kind where you want to say something to fill the emptiness, but knowing that it will only result in an even more awkward silence afterward. The silence is good for Emily; it allows her to remind herself that her choosing to distance herself lately has been the best choice for her and her heart.

When they reach the park, they find it to be mostly empty and quickly claim a bench, sitting on opposite sides of it. Emily is tense and she knows Lindsey can tell; it’s not exactly hard to see. Her posture is more rigid than it has ever been, her hands are stuffed in her sweatshirt pocket, and her leg is twitching.

“Em?”

Emily freezes. Lindsey hasn’t called her that in a long time.

“You good?”

She nods stiffly and tries to relax at least a little bit.

“You said you wanted to talk,” she speaks softly. “What’s up?”

“I miss you.”

Emily doesn’t respond.

“I don’t know why you’ve been avoiding me or if I did something wrong, but I’m sorry if I upset you in some way.”

Emily can almost feel her eyes turning cold when she responds, and the look on Lindsey’s face is a good indicator that it wasn’t missed.

“You don’t know if you did something wrong?”

Lindsey visibly flinches but Emily can’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

“You toyed with my emotions, Lindsey. You played with my feelings and, yeah, I let you for a while because I was so head-over-heels in love with you,” she ignores Lindsey’s sharp intake of breath and continues, “that I didn’t care about my own heart.”

Lindsey goes to speak but Emily silences her with a look before continuing herself.

“I have been avoiding you. I asked for space, and, no, I didn’t offer a reason because I shoudn’t have to. I should be able to ask for space be given it without having to tell you that it was because I couldn’t fucking think straight because you chose _him_ over _me._ I needed time and space to figure my own shit out, to start getting over you.”

Her voice quiets and she can hear the vulnerability slipping in at the next part.

“You broke me, Lindsey,” she takes a breath and steadies her voice as she continues. “I won’t apologize for how I am choosing to heal after you messed up. My life doesn’t revolve around you, Lindsey. Not anymore.”

With that, Emily stands from the bench and walks away. She can feel Lindsey’s eyes on her as she goes, but the younger girl doesn’t follow her. She keeps walking, one thought echoing in her head over and over.

_Don’t look back._

She doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house, we stan happy Soran except on alternating weeks.
> 
> Idk, I don't make the rules.
> 
> (Yes, I do.)
> 
> As always, feel free to yell at me wherever you see fit.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me in the comments, or on Tumblr (@closetbidisaster).
> 
> @daphneblue, you know where to find me to yell at me.


End file.
